


Maybe Someday

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Sex, M/M, Season 13 Castiel/Dean Winchester Reunion, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Amnesia, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: Dean's doing a really shitty job of dealing with Castiel's death. He can't eat, he can't sleep, and he can't stop drinking. But worst of all, he can't stop kicking himself for thinking he had more time. He should've known better. Every day's a gamble living the way they do, and Cas had lost in the worst possible way. Now Dean's stuck drowning in the aftermath, telling himself over and over that he'd do things differently if he just had one more chance.The Winchesters wouldn't have any luck if it weren't for bad luck, though, so he really shouldn't be surprised when the angel he's been pining for shows up with a familiar face but absolutely no memories. How's he supposed to make things right and keep his promise to himself when Cas doesn't even know who he is? And how's he supposed to keep his distance when Cas keepslooking at himlike that?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever DCRB! 
> 
> You can find the art that inspired this whole fic [here.](https://mebo92.deviantart.com/art/Maybe-Someday-Art-748589273) Big thanks to her for being so accommodating with my vision for this story when it took a slightly different turn than what she originally had in mind.
> 
> As always, the quality here would be lacking if it wasn't for my beta [Becky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmink/pseuds/Pinkmink), and my typo-finder, [Sophia](https://twitter.com/TishaPMoon). Thank you both for always making the things I write better than how they started!
> 
> I'm really proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/WF6ZgXT)  
>   
> 

* * *

“This is a bad idea,” Sam whispers.

“Say it again, Sam. I didn’t hear you the first ten times,” Dean grumbles, his low voice carrying across the forest they’re currently walking through.

“Keep it down, Dean!” Sam hisses at him.

Dean rolls his eyes. It’s the middle of the god forsaken night, he’s freezing his damn ass off, and he and Sam are hiking through another stupid forest in the middle of nowhere trying to find whatever the hell is taking out the teenagers who keep coming out here to camp. Whatever it is only strikes at night, so without any other clues they have to try to hide out to see if they can catch a glimpse, and he’s more than a little bitter about it.

“Why’s it always gotta be in the middle of the night?”

Not that it really matters. It’s not like he sleeps anymore. He knows Sam thinks he does, but really, all he’s been doing since Cas - _nope_. He cuts off that thought as usual and pulls the flask out of his pocket to swallow down a couple of mouthfuls. Another thing that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. He can barely even scrape up the energy to fake it for his baby brother.

“Not all of us need twelve hours of beauty sleep all of a sudden,” Sam says in a whisper. “And drinking on the job? Really Dean? It’s like -” But Sam doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. They both know what he didn’t say and why. Probably has something to do with how they could barely look at each other for days after Sam said it the last time and Dean couldn’t find his voice to deny it.

_It’s like you don’t even care if you live or die anymore!_

The worst part is he’s not entirely sure if Sam’s wrong. Truth is, if it wasn’t for Sam, he probably wouldn’t care at all. But he knows hunting with somebody is better than hunting alone (even if that someone is not totally sober), and with their mom still taking off more often than not, he’s not gonna bail on his brother. Even if he can’t help that he’s not bouncing back from losing one of the only people he’s ever loved the way Sam seems to be, he doesn’t want to leave him on his own.

_I miss him every day, Dean, I do. But - but I don’t think that he meant the same thing to me that he meant to you. It, well, it was different for you and him, wasn’t it?_

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was trying and failing to bury his regret about never telling Cas what he meant to him before it was too late, now he has to try to deal with how it feels to hear from every damn person who knows them (and has managed to stay alive) that they all knew, too. And he has to deal with all the stupid, sad looks full of pity that he wishes were never aimed in his direction to begin with.

From Claire. _I know how much it blows to lose somebody you love... but I don’t really know what to do when it’s somebody you love the way you loved Castiel. If it helps, I think he knew. You were everything to him._

From mom. _I only had to see the way you hugged each other the first time I ever met Castiel to know what you two were to each other. I’m still trying to learn how to live life without your father. I know how it feels to feel like a piece of you is missing. I don’t know if it will ever go away, but I do know it gets easier with time._

From Jack. _I didn’t know Castiel. Not really. But I shared his thoughts, and he thought of you more than anyone. He felt differently about you than he did other people. You were more._

From Jody. _I never met him, but I know how much you loved him, and I know that his loss will change you. I’m so sorry._

Even fucking Rowena. _Oh, dearie. The pain of a broken heart is radiating off of you in waves, boy. You know I do my best not to play favorites with you three strapping lads, but I don’t need to tell_ you _that angel of yours was as good as they come._

Why was he so damn scared to tell Cas if everybody knew anyway? Everybody but the only person who needed to know, and now he’ll never get to tell him. Now he’ll never know if he and Cas could’ve hunted together so Sam could get out of the life he never wanted in the first place. If he could’ve hunted with Cas ‘til he got too old to take on the monsters and still mostly win. Maybe if both him and Cas managed to stay alive that long, they could’ve gotten old and grey together, and he could've shared what was left of his life with somebody who really knew him and wanted to hang around anyway. He thinks he could have been happy with that. Now he’ll never be that kind of happy and he knows there’s no one to blame but himself.

No fucking wonder he can’t sleep.

He snaps a twig as he downs his next mouthful of whisky and he can see Sam’s frown broadcasted in the form of his stiff shoulders. So he stepped on a damn twig. They’re in the freaking forest!

“Least I didn’t step on the one up your ass,” Dean grumbles.

“Real mature,” Sam murmurs back, but then he freezes. Years of hunting by Sam’s side has him freezing too, and he quickly stashes his flask to trade it out for his angel blade. He feels bile working its way up his throat as he takes the heavy weight into his palm, and he tries to ignore the way his hand is shaking. He’s such a fucking mess over Cas that he can barely even hold something that reminds him of him, and every damn time he touches this thing it’s like he can’t think of anything but how he isn’t here anymore and how much he misses him.

“Did you hear that?” Sam asks it so quietly Dean can barely hear him. He answers with a shake of his head. They wait it out, standing completely still and listening as closely as they can for what feels like ever but is probably only a few minutes.

Dean’s the one who finally shrugs and takes another step forwards. Sam follows behind, and it’s only another step or two when Sam reaches over to gently take the angel blade out of his hand, stuffs it inside his jacket for him, and trades it out for the gun in there instead. He only gets a glimpse of the sadness and understanding in Sam’s eyes before it’s too much and he has to look away as he stalks off, already fighting back tears.

Again.

Get it the fuck together, Winchester.

The familiar pep talk repeating in a loop in his head is probably why he doesn’t hear anything until it’s too late.

It feels like everything happens all at once and way too fast.

There’s what sounds like a loud crack and a bright burst of blue light high up over their heads, and at exactly the same moment, they’re absolutely _surrounded_ by demons. There must be two dozen of them.

“Sammy!” Dean calls, turning around so they can try to fight them off back to back.

“Right here,” Sam answers, moving into position behind him. Unfortunately for them, the demons are forming a tight circle around them, effectively trapping them in the middle.

“It was a trap,” Dean realizes - way, way too late.

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Sam reminds him.

He almost smiles at how they’re on Death’s doorstep and Sam still can’t resist being the annoying little shit he is. He’s in no shape to fight off this many demons right now, not even with the angel blade tucked into his jacket. “Gimme your blade. Then run and I’ll hold them off so you can get a head start,” he says to Sam in his most authoritative voice. “Call mom, get some other hunters down here to help.”

“Shut up, Dean! I’m not leaving you alone, you idiot,” Sam insists. “Here,” he slips him a bottle of holy water, and if Dean wastes a second gripping onto Sam’s hand in yet another silent goodbye to his baby brother, well, there’s not gonna be anybody left to give him shit about it two minutes from now.

In an unspoken agreement, they both douse as many demons as they can with the holy water and dive head first into the fray. It’s utter chaos, and for every demon they smoke, it feels like there’s another three ready to take their place. They never had to deal with this shit when Crowley was around. Thankfully, the booze in his system is blocking some of the pain from the blows he’s getting, but his reaction time must not be slowed down too much or he would’ve been dead a long time ago.

He’s probably taken out half a dozen demons when his eyes get drawn up to the blue light again that keeps getting brighter and brighter as the seconds tick by. The demons seem to shy away from it, and without even knowing what the fuck it is, he just hopes Sam can survive until the thing gets close enough to scare them away. Maybe if he makes a run for it some of them will follow him...

 

 

But the blue thing in the sky is racing towards them even faster now, and some of the demons start poofing away. One disappears just as Sam’s about to put a blade through its chest, and the next thing he knows, Dean’s flat on his back with a hand that’s way too strong to be human choking the life out of him slowly but surely. He fumbles for the blade in his pocket and realizes it must’ve fallen out somewhere along the way, and the gun in his hand does absolutely nothing - especially as blackness starts to creep in.

“Sam,” he tries to choke out, but he barely makes a sound and he knows Sam never would’ve heard him. If he’s even okay.

_At least I should be able to pull some strings and see Cas one more time before they take me to Hell_ , is his last hopeful thought before the demon that was straddling him slams down onto his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of him. The demon catches his jaw in an unintentional but painful uppercut with the heel of his hand, and Dean hears a low and eerily familiar voice come out in a huff of air that sounds a lot like, “ _Ugh.”_

That blue light pulses once before it glows so bright it feels like his eyeballs are going to burn out of his sockets. But he doesn’t care in the least because at that exact moment, Dean’s filled with so much warmth, happiness, and recognition - a feeling he's only ever gotten from one person, one _angel_ \- that he already knows exactly who that light belongs to before he even opens his eyes.

“Cas?” he gasps. He still doesn’t have his breath back, and he feels like there’s shards of glass in his throat and about four hundred pounds of bodies on top of him, but he tries again because _he knows_ it’s him. “Cas!?”

One of the bodies on top of him disappears and he can tell by the smell of sulfur that the demon was just incinerated.

And now he has a lapful of the most unbelievable sight he’s ever seen.

It’s Castiel, looking more than a little ruffled with pink cheeks, his hair windblown absolutely everywhere, his eyes still glowing with lingering grace, and - and a pair of _enormous_ black wings spread out behind him still smoking from the edges.

Dean knows his eyes must be comically wide. His heart’s beating a mile a minute and he has to blink away his tears to make sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.

“Um. My apologies,” Castiel says formally, awkwardly getting to his feet and stumbling back a few steps. He shakes out his feathers and tucks his wings behind his back like a bird.

_His wings._

Dean watches as Cas looks down at his fingers, clenching and unclenching them with that stupid little head tilt he does sometimes and Dean can feel his throat clogging just watching him. _It’s him_. Holy fucking shit, it’s really him!

“Evidently, I’m not able to steer as well as I had anticipated with my wings burning. I was pulled towards this location, but I didn’t intend to land on top of you. I hope I didn’t cause you any additional pain or distress with my uncoordinated landing.”

Dean can’t stop staring at him. Cas has that little pinch between his eyebrows like he’s confused about what’s going on. He’s pulling his trench coat closed and then buttoning it up and stuffing his hands under his armpits like... like he’s cold. Dean knows something is very wrong here, but the sight of Cas standing in front of him has him so shocked he can’t get up off of the ground or even get his mouth to work well enough to say anything. He’s just lying there flat on his back like an idiot, looking up at Cas - who is apparently alive (if not entirely well) and _has wings_.

“Cas? Cas, is that - is that really you, man?” Sam says carefully.

Dean can hear the hope in his brother's voice. He finally has enough wits about him to get to his feet, and he’s in the midst of dusting off his ass so he can respond that _obviously_ it’s him when Castiel beats him to it.

“Why do you keep addressing me so informally?” The question is asked in Sam’s direction, but Cas looks back at Dean almost immediately and their eyes lock, and Dean’s heart starts beating so fast he thinks he might actually fall right back onto the ground. Cas looks unsure, but still, he takes several steps towards him until he’d be too close for comfort if he was anybody _but_ Cas.

Then he says to Dean, “My name is _Castiel_. I’m a Fallen Angel of The Lord, and I require your assistance to locate Dean Winchester.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam exchange worried glances. He feels like he was just sucker punched straight in the gut and he doesn’t know whether to start asking about the whole _fallen angel_ thing or the fact that Cas obviously has no fucking clue who they are.

“You - you don’t know who we are?” Sam asks Cas.

Well, guess that’s one way to decide which way this is gonna go.

Cas doesn’t even glance at Sam, but if it’s possible, the scrutiny in his gaze only intensifies while he continues to look at him.

“Your soul -” Dean flinches and crosses his arms over his chest, as if that will help to shield it from Cas’s eyes. “- is _exceptionally_ bright.” Cas takes another step closer to him, and now he’s so close that his wings arching over his back are blocking his view of Sam. “The brightness increases exponentially the closer I get to you.”

Dean has to swallow several times to work the lump down his throat as a blush begins to heat his face. Could Cas - _his_ Cas - always see his soul get brighter whenever they were close? It’s too much to think about right now with this Cas standing in front of him.

“You, uh, obviously don’t remember, but we know each other," he tries to explain. "I’m just glad to have you back, man.”

Castiel tilts his head with confusion. “But - how could I forget a soul like yours?”

It’s stupid to feel like he was just slapped in the face, but the air leaves his lungs all in a rush anyway. “I’m Dean Winchester,” he decides to say to try to cover up his reaction. This time it’s Cas’s turn to widen his eyes. “Why are you looking for me?”

“I - I don’t know,” Castiel replies, taking a step back. Dean notices the way his wings seem to droop behind him and for whatever reason it reminds him of the way a dog’s ears might fall when he’s sad. It makes him want to comfort Cas so he doesn’t feel that way anymore.

“Hey, don’t worry about that right now, okay? Uh, this is my brother, Sam,” Dean says, gesturing to him and feeling like an idiot for introducing him to somebody he should already know. “We’re hunters. We can keep you safe until we figure out what’s going on, alright?”

“We should really get out of this forest before Asmodeus decides to send another wave of demons after us,” Sam says.

“You fight demons? How?” Castiel asks.

Dean looks around on the ground for the angel blade he dropped. He sees the glint of the blade and walks over to pick it up to show him with a wiggle of his hand.

“You have an angel blade.” Castiel says it like he can’t quite believe it. “May I...?”

Dean exchanges another look with Sam, who shrugs. He trusts Cas with his life, but this doesn’t seem like it’s _his_ Cas. So he has to check.

“You’re not gonna hurt us, are you?”

Castiel’s wings flutter behind him, giving Dean the impression that he’s uncomfortable with the question. “Not unless I need to protect myself.”

Dean hands the angel blade to Cas, handle first, but the second his fingers touch it Cas gasps and it falls back to the ground between them.

Dean steps forwards instinctively, grasping Cas the first place he can reach, which happens to be his elbow. Castiel’s eyes glow with grace and his wings furl out behind him with a loud _snap._ Dean pulls his hands away and holds them in front of him to show Cas he’s not a threat. “You alright? What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice gruff with concern.

“Dean, be careful,” Sam warns from behind them.

“I won’t hurt him,” Castiel says to Sam, his eyes still locked on Dean’s. He wonders where the change of heart came from. With a flutter, Castiel’s wings fold up again behind his back. “That blade is created from my grace. How is that I don’t remember giving it to you?”

Dean looks down at the blade on the ground again and reluctantly backs away from Cas to bend down to pick it back up. He had no idea angel blades were made from an angel’s grace. He looks at it in his hand and suddenly sees it in an entirely new light. This is a _piece of Cas_. No wonder he couldn’t bear to hold it when he thought he was dead.

“This was made from your grace?” Castiel nods his head minutely. “You - he -” God this is fucked up. “He never told me.”

“We knew each other,” Castiel says, repeating Dean's words from earlier. Dean nods his head and swallows down another lump in his throat. Seems like he believes him this time, at least.

“We can talk about this while we walk back,” Sam prompts gently.

“Walk back?” Castiel echoes.

“To the car so we can drive back to - to where we live.”

He has a feeling if he says they’re going back to an underground bunker that Cas won’t want to go, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting him out of his sight now that he has him - or a version of him - back.

“Is it warm where you live?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah,” Sam answers for him. “A lot warmer than this.”

“Are you cold?” Dean asks him.

“Extremely so.”

Dean doesn’t think before he takes off his jacket and hands it out to him. Castiel looks at him with confusion in his eyes, and Sam can’t seem to hide his grin - which kind of brings attention to what a cheesy move this is - but fuck it. Cas is back and he’s cold, and the least he can do is give him his damn coat. He goes to drape it over his shoulders, but realizes pretty fast he isn’t going to be able to get it onto him with those wings on his back. He barely has the thought before Cas’s wings disappear right in front of him with the same _woosh_ he’s used to hearing whenever Cas disappeared. That sound is so singularly associated with Cas in his mind that it’s something he never thought he’d hear again. It sends grief piercing through him like an arrow and he fails to hide the way he grimaces with pain.

Castiel makes a small sound of alarm and he reaches out towards him like he wants to comfort him before he stops himself, clamps his mouth shut, and stuffs his hands back in his pockets. The whole thing is _just_ weird enough that it brings Dean back to himself. How does Cas know how much hearing that rattled him?

He notices Cas still hasn’t made a move to put the coat on over his trench coat, so it’s with a roll of his eyes that Dean takes his arm to guide it into the hole. Thankfully, Cas catches on to to put his other arm in the other sleeve. His fingers fumble at the zipper, probably because he’s not used to his hands being frozen, before Dean stops him with a gentle hand to his shoulder and takes care of that, too.

He can feel Sam’s eyes burning into his back but he ignores him and gives Cas a soft smile when he’s done.

“Thank you, Dean.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Sam’s curiosity gets the better of him. “So, um, Castiel? Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about what’s going on?”

“You can ask, but I can’t guarantee I'll have answers for you,” Castiel replies.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t feel comfortable talking about, okay?” Sam says gently. He can hear the puppy dog eyes just in his tone of voice. “What’s the last thing you remember before you landed here today?”

“Nothing,” Castiel answers on an exhale.

“You have no memories at all?” Sam asks again.

“I know who I am. I know that I’m an angel - or was an angel. And I know that I chose to Fall... but I don’t know why I had to make the choice.”

“What do you mean by _fall_?” Dean asks. “You still have angel mojo or your eyes wouldn’t be flashing on and off like a light bulb.”

“Angel mojo?” Castiel repeats quietly. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he might sound amused. “I have a miniscule amount of grace remaining, but it won't replenish. When I’ve used it up, it’s gone forever. It no longer sustains my body.”

“Does that mean - are you human right now?” Sam asks him.

“Yes.”

What the fuck. He’s _human?_

Dean squeezes his eyes closed tight to try to fight off the despair that just hit him like a tidal wave and spins to face in the other direction.

“Need a minute,” he says as he walks a few steps away.

“Dean, hang on a second,” Sam calls after him. “We’re in the middle of a demon infested forest!”

“I need a damn minute, Sam,” Dean repeats gruffly, and this time Sam doesn’t protest.

Why does this shit always have to happen to him? Every damn time.

He’s daydreamed and fantasized what it might be like if Cas wasn’t really dead, if he came back again like he always does, and now that he has... of course it’s not going to be anything like he thought it would be. He can’t tell him how much he cares about him, how he’s barely been able to function without him, and how he never wants to leave his side again for as long as he lives when Cas doesn’t even know who the hell _he is_.

A part of him’s still itching to walk over to Cas and throw his arms around him just to feel his body to _know_ he’s real, and his hand keeps twitching to fix his stupid hair for him, and he wants to touch his face and feel his lips and _he can’t_. And sure, that part ain’t exactly new, but now Sam knows how he feels about Cas - everybody damn well knows - and _he knows_ they know. And now he has no idea how to act around Cas when all he wants to do is shelter and protect him, but he can’t because he’s so self conscious that Sam is analyzing every little thing he does.

And even worse than all that, Cas came back as a human! Talk about shit on top of shit. This means Cas can get sick, he can get hurt, _he could die_ all over again - for real this time - and Dean cannot fucking handle worrying about all this shit at the same time after he hasn’t cared about anything for -

“Dean?” He jumps when he hears Cas has snuck up so close behind him and it’s so achingly familiar he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry. “I don’t understand why, but there’s something about seeing you in distress that’s making me incredibly uncomfortable. I feel compelled to offer my assistance. How can I help you?”

 _You can’t._ “Look, you and me were - we were best friends for the last ten years, give or take.” That’s not entirely right though, and he doesn’t want to lie. “Maybe closer than best friends.”

“Like brothers?” Castiel asks him.

Dean just pins him with an incredulous look, because if Cas doesn’t remember him then he can’t know. This Cas can’t possibly know that he ended up using _brother_ every time he tried but chickened out halfway through telling him how he really felt. How he falls back on it when he feels nervous or cornered, and how many times he’s beaten himself up for it afterwards. It’s true that he loves Cas, and it’s true that he’s the best friend he’s ever had, but what he feels for him is nothing like a brother.

“No,” Dean says. “Look. When you died, man, it took the wind outta my sails in a big way. Getting you back without you knowing who I am and what we were to each other is kinda like... well, it’s a hell even _I_ never thought up,” he tries to explain.

“But your soul lights up when we get closer,” Castiel says again. Dean chooses not to respond, hoping Cas will catch on and stop talking about his stupid soul. “How can I bring happiness to your soul and be hell for you at the same time?”

“Because!” Dean spits out, the one word coming out much louder than he meant it to. He takes a breath to calm down, knowing it’s not Cas’s fault he doesn’t know who he is. “Because you look and sound the same as you used to, but you aren’t really you without your memories. Not the _you_ I know, and it’s killing me to see you and not get the chance to be how I wanted us to be.”

“I don’t understand. How would we be if I had my memories?”

“I - I can’t tell you if you don’t remember me,” Dean replies.

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t mean anything!” Dean exclaims, his voice coming out harsh all over again. “Shit. Sorry. I’m -” he runs his hand through his short hair, tugging on it a little to get out some of his frustrations. “This is hard, man. I had to watch you die in front of me. I - wrapped you up when you were going cold and stood there looking at you feeling like half of me died, too. Thought I was gonna blow chunks when I smelled your fucking body burning.” He can still smell it. He can still see Cas’s lifeless body lying on that damn table and he knows he’ll _never_ stop seeing it. “I - I dreamed about you coming back so many times, Cas, and now you’re here, and - and you don’t even know why it mattered so much.”

He can feel his eyes burning and digs his nails into the fleshy part of his palms trying to feel anything other than heartbreak _again._

Cas surprises him by taking a step closer and pulling him into the world’s most awkward hug. Cas’s body is stiff - not the way he used to hug him like he couldn’t get close enough - but it still feels familiar, and even knowing that this is a mistake, that this isn’t _his_ Cas, he clings to him anyway.

This might not be _his_ Cas, but it might be the closest he’ll ever get and he’s not going to regret not taking what he can get this time. He lets himself have all of the sappy thoughts he always tried to push away or ignore before. Cas fits into his arms perfectly the way he always has. He’s only got an inch or two on him, but Cas’s head naturally rests on his shoulder the same way it always did, and - fuck - he even smells the same: that astral scent that he’s never been able to explain but would recognize anywhere.

He can feel Cas’s warm body relaxing into him the longer he holds on, and when Cas turns his head and his nose nuzzles against his neck Dean can feel goosebumps spread along his flesh just as quickly as a sense of wrong washes over him.

This isn’t right. He would give _anything_ for Cas to know who he is and what this means to him right now, but he has no idea and he can’t forget that. He has to fight the urge to give Cas a manly slap on the back when he reluctantly pulls away, but he swore he wasn’t gonna do that stupid shit anymore if he got him back, so he doesn’t.

That’s when he notices Cas is staring at him like he can’t figure out what to do.

“What?” he asks, feeling self conscious.

“I have no memory of you, but every fragment of my being is drawn to you _so_ strongly. I yearn to be close to you, to comfort you, to protect you, and I don’t understand why.” Dean feels like his chest might explode. “I feel that towards Sam to a degree as well, but it’s not quite the same.”

Yeah, he knows how that is.

But he also recognizes that Cas is being more honest with him now. He knows vulnerability when he sees it. So he tries again, purposely softening his voice to try to coax the truth out of him.

“Why were you looking for me?”

Castiel hesitates, but ultimately answers, “Would you believe me if I told you I feel like I need to be here _because_ of you? Almost as if it’s my duty.” Dean flinches away from that and takes another step back from him. He doesn’t want to be Cas’s damn duty. Cas just steps closer. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you just now.”

“I’m fine,” Dean lies.

Castiel looks at him appraisingly. “When I held you just now, I could feel that your skin was quite cold,” Castiel comments, surprising him with the abrupt change of subject. “Would you like your coat back?”

“I’m fine,” Dean lies again. He’s fucking freezing, but he still wants Cas to be warm more than he cares about how cold he is. He sees Cas’s lips twitch - which is what passes as a smile for him most of the time - and while he has no idea what he has to be happy about right now, he’s just glad he is. “We should keep walking. Come on.”

Sam’s right where he left him, and as they approach him, his eyebrows lift in a silent, “All good?” Dean answers with a tilt of his head, hoping to convey, “Not really, but I’ve been worse.” Then he looks away from Sam and walks past him, silently adding, “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sam lets out a little _tsk_ behind him and he knows he got the message loud and clear.

He can hear them following behind him, and when Cas speeds up until he’s walking beside him again he tries to tell his heart not to inflate in his chest, but it doesn’t get the message.

“Hey, um, Cas?” Sam starts up again after a few minutes.

“Castiel,” he corrects, but he’s nicer about it this time. “Yes?”

“What’s happening with your wings?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we knew you - or, um, Castiel - before, he never showed us his wings. But we saw yours, and they were burned pretty badly,” Sam says apologetically.

“My choices were to either crash to the ground at a speed so fast I wouldn’t survive it, or allow you to see my wings. I’m sure you understand my decision,” he answers with his voice much too flat, even for Cas.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “They looked like they were in pretty bad shape, though. Does that always happen when angels Fall?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. But...” he looks sideways at Dean and squints at him before he says, “I’m fine.”

“Okay, I get it. But just... if you ever need help with them - or with anything, really - I’ve read a lot of books on angel lore, and I think I could help you if you needed it.”

“If you have indeed read angel lore that’s accurate, then you know why I won’t permit that, but I appreciate the thought.”

Dean knows he’s missing something, but it doesn’t sound like it’s something Cas wants to talk about, so he doesn’t push it. It’s only a few minutes more when he sees the Impala parked on the side of the road. Sure felt like it took a hell of a lot longer to walk there than it did to walk back, but that was probably because of how slow and quiet they were - well, _Sam_ anyway - was trying to be.

“I recognize this car,” Castiel remarks, stopping Dean in his tracks. “I’m sorry. I mean to say I know it like I know you. I don’t remember it specifically, but I feel a sense of _knowing_ looking at it.”

Dean’s lips stretch into a smile. “Not surprised to hear that. She’s a beauty. Leaves an impression.”

“And she’s warm,” Sam says with a smile.

“She will be once she warms up,” Dean agrees. He looks at Sam and gives him an assessing once over. “You good?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, why?”

“You look kinda tired.”

To his credit, Sam at least _tries_ to hide his smile this time. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, I’m pretty beat. Maybe I should just crash in the back seat.” He moves around Dean and whispers, “Give you two some time alone.”

Dean gives him an elbow on the way by and is satisfied when he hears a soft _oof_ from his brother. He opens the car door and Cas does the same on the other side. He knows it’s more than a little lame to want to share the front with Cas when Sam always sits up here, and he damn well knows as soon as they get this shit figured out with Cas he’s never gonna hear the end of it from Sam, but it’s hard to care when he’s got Cas sitting so close beside him.

He reminds himself that Cas doesn’t know who he is... even though he knows he wanted to be with him, and he said he feels drawn to him. It’s enough to make him think the real Cas is in there somewhere, and there isn’t anything he won’t do to get him back. Including taking a ribbing from Sam.

He turns the car on and cranks the heat, his teeth actually starting to chatter when it just comes out cold at first. He rubs his hands together to warm them, and it isn’t long before the air starts to heat up. He holds his hands to the vents greedily, grimacing as he begins to get the feeling back in them. He turns to see Cas doing the same thing, and smiles at the relief he sees all over Cas’s face.

“This feels very good,” Castiel says in explanation.

“Good,” he answers with a soft smile. Feels really good to see Cas enjoying something as simple as his hands warming up.

He glances over his shoulder to see Sam rolling his eyes as he puts in his ear buds. He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s been putting up with some major shit from him lately, and still, he’s letting him have this with Cas. When Sam catches his eye, Dean gives him a nod in thanks, which he responds to with another eye roll before he looks away. Whatever.

He turns back around and puts the car in gear, and eases her onto the road.

“How far are we from your home?” Castiel asks.

“Well, it’s not exactly a home so much as it is a bunker,” Dean admits. “But we live there, so it’s _our_ home.”

“A bunker,” Cas repeats.

“Yeah. You uh, know anything about the Men of Letters?”

“Yes. Very old secret society of hunters.”

Dean’s heart trips in his chest at the confirmation of a memory from Cas. “Right. So uh, they’re not active here anymore, but we have a family connection and we found one of their headquarters. It’s got some bedrooms, a kitchen, ton of books and shit, and since it’s all warded and packed with weapons _and_ we don’t exactly have anywhere else to go, it’s kinda been our home base for a couple of years now.”

“When you say we, am I included in that? Is this my home as well?” Castiel asks.

Dean feels his cheeks burn, remembering himself telling Cas not too long ago, _You, me, and Sam? We’re just better together_. “I dunno, man. You never said. You always seemed to be flying off somewhere.” Cas doesn’t say anything, so he adds, “I hope you’d say it’s your home. I think of it like that. Sure as hell’s felt empty without you considering how often you weren’t around to begin with.”

“You missed me when I was gone.” Dean swallows and nods. “I think I must have missed you, too.”

“Cas don’t,” he chokes out. “Don’t say that to try to make me feel - better? I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to do, but I know you don’t know who I am -”

“I don’t remember your face but I remember the way you make me feel,” Castiel confesses. “It doesn’t feel wrong to hear _you_ call me Cas. It feels right.”

Dean swallows again. “Sam used to call you Cas, too.”

“The way you say it is different. There’s an undertone behind it I don’t hear from Sam.” Dean has to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from saying anything. “I like the way you say it the most.”

Now he doesn’t know what the hell to say, so there’s silence for a while, and his brain is already so busy buzzing with everything that’s happened tonight he doesn’t bother trying to fill it.

“I have an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach,” Castiel says some time later, breaking the silence.

“Uh, I’m not real good with the whole feelings thing, but what’s it feel like? Can you describe it or something?”

“It feels... hollow.”

Dean lets out a sigh of relief. “Probably just hungry. You’ve been human before. You don’t remember that, huh?”

“No,” Castiel says with certainty. Then, “If I was human, how did I become an angel again?”

“We got your grace back.”

“Oh. There’s no chance of that this time,” he explains.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says honestly.

“Don’t be. I chose this.”

Right. He just doesn’t know why. “Open the glove box - uh, right there with the handle in front of you - there’s usually a couple of power bars in there. We can run through a drive thru if you’re real hungry.”

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve been very kind to me.”

Dean keeps his eyes trained straight ahead, uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s just a power bar, man.”

They get all the way through Pink Floyd's _Dark Side of the Moon_ before Cas talks again.

“Would it be too distressing for you to tell me how I died?”

He gets a flash of the memory of an angel blade poking through Cas’s chest and forces the thought away. “Hard to explain. But uh, do you know who Lucifer is?”

Castiel huffs. “I should have known it was Lucifer.”

“Yeah.” Dean adds that to the mental list he’s already starting about what Cas remembers. “You were trying to save me and Sam.” The familiar anger at Cas sacrificing himself for him, the feeling of not being anywhere close to being worth Cas dying for seeps in. “Dammit, Cas, you were so _stupid_. I tried to stop you - I swear I tried, but Sam -” The betrayal hits him again like a brick. It was even worse after he figured out Sam knew how he felt about Cas and still wouldn’t let him stay to try and help him. “He held me back. And Lucifer came up behind you and, uh, angel blade. In the back,” he stumbles. “The light - your grace - just came pouring out of your mouth and your eyes, and you were just... gone. Just like that. There wasn’t anything I could do. I didn’t even get a chance to -” He stops, shaking his head. “Your wings were scorched into the ground and everything.”

He jerks when Cas’s hand rests on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It must have been very upsetting for you. Your soul is in so much pain remembering.”

He can see that? It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know just how many times he’s relived it all. Even talking about it has his heart feeling like it’s bleeding inside of him. He can hardly see through the blur of tears he’s barely managing to keep from falling, and his entire body is itching for a drink.

“Thought you were really gone,” Dean says in a whisper.

Cas doesn’t drop his hand. He just keeps it there on his shoulder, and the warmth and weight of it calms him bit by bit until his vision clears and he begins to feel himself start to breathe normally again.

“Do all humans feel so much pain when somebody they don’t know is hurting?” Cas asks him, his voice lower than it usually is.

“Uh,” Dean says, clearing his throat like an idiot. Is Cas hurting just because he is? “I don’t know. The good ones do, maybe, but I’m not really the guy to ask about that.”

“Will you tell me about yourself?”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m - I’m nobody.” He doesn’t want Cas to think he’s the good kinda human he was just talking about. “Just a guy who was raised in the life of a hunter, who got dragged into a bunch of shit I didn’t want anything to do with.”

“How did we come to know each other?”

Dean grins now. “You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

“I won’t.”

“Alright. You got me out of Hell,” Dean answers with a smile. It _does_ sound crazy. “Used to have your handprint on my shoulder to prove it, but it healed eventually.”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side. “No, it’s still there.”

Dean turns to glance at him. “It’s gone, man. Nothing left.”

“You might not be able to see it, but once I knew to look for it, I could feel it. It’s faint, but it’s there. I think... knowing it’s there now, that must have been what led me to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s my brand, Dean. I branded you with my name, with my _grace_.”

Dean looks over at him again, sharper this time. “What!? Why?”

Cas shakes his head. “I can’t even begin to imagine why I would do such a thing. Especially without getting your consent first.”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. Almost ten damn years. Why didn’t my Cas ever tell me if he did that to me?” Dean asks, knowing this Cas isn’t going to know.

“I apologize, Dean. I don’t have the answer to that for you. But it explains why you were in so much pain when I died. We’re connected. We have a pro-”

“Profound bond,” Dean finishes for him. “Yeah. That line, I’ve heard,” he says wistfully.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. I know it’s hurting you.”

“Not your fault,” Dean tells him. “Still just really glad to have you back.”

“You must have meant a great deal to me for me to mark you like that. If I never told you before, I should have. You would have been dearer to me than anyone.”

Dean scoffs even as everything inside of him heats up all in a rush. He thinks about all the times Cas bailed on him for no reason he could ever figure out, and replies, “Now I know you don’t remember.”

Castiel frowns but he doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t move his hand. It eventually slides down to the crook of his elbow, and when Dean drops his arm so he’s more comfortable, Cas’s hand slips down his forearm to his wrist and he leaves his hand resting next to his where their fingers brush.

They’re not holding hands - barely even touching hands, really - but it’s more intimate than he’s been with anybody in years and his blood is roaring in his ears and making his face feel almost uncomfortably warm.

But he drives the rest of the way home with one hand on the wheel and his heart in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

When they get to the bunker, Sam says something about how Dean will get Castiel settled in and then disappears to his room, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. Dean wonders if Cas feels anywhere as weird about this as he does, but considering the way his hands are stuffed in his pockets and his eyes are glued on him again (still?), he figures probably not.

“So uh, you had a room here before. Do you wanna stay in there or do you want me to get you set up in a different room?”

“If I already have a room, it makes sense that I will be most comfortable there,” Castiel answers.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. He was afraid of that. He leads the way to the room beside his and opens the door for him, but that’s as far as he can make himself go. “This is it. Make yourself at home.” God, he feels like an ass.

Castiel walks past him into the room, looking around at the bare walls and Cas’s bed, which is perfectly made... because his Cas never had to sleep. The thought makes him miss the way Cas used to be, the way he won’t ever be again if what he said is true, and he has to look away from him for a minute to remind himself how lucky he is that he’s back at all.

“Me being in this room makes you uncomfortable,” Castiel says suddenly.

“It ain’t that,” he lies. “Well not just that. I used to come in here sometimes.”

“When I was dead?” Castiel checks.

Dean answers with a shrug of his shoulder before he elaborates, “Bad memories bein’ in here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want me to get you something to sleep in? You never used to sleep or change your clothes, so you don’t have anything else here.”

“I believe something else would be more comfortable than this suit, yes,” Castiel says.

“Be right back. I’m just next door, so I’m not goin’ far or anything.”

Castiel tilts his head again, and Dean wonders if he can somehow see how torn up he feels about leaving his sight even for a minute.

“I’ll come with you,” Castiel says, and he figures that probably answers that.

Cas follows a step behind him until they’re in his room. He walks to his dresser and pulls out a pair of pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. He turns back to see Cas standing beside his bed, and the sight makes him feel all kinds of things all at once. He inhales slowly, trying not to show that Cas being in here is really messing with his head right now, and hands the pajamas to him. “Nothin’ fancy, but it’ll be more comfortable than the suit.”

“Thank you, Dean. I like being in here. Something about your room feels much more comforting to me than my own. It feels like you.”

He feels like his heart throbs in his chest, and he has to turn away from him so he can get it together.

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he tells him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry!” he exclaims.

He just knows Cas’s eyebrows are pinched together right now even though he isn’t looking at him. It isn’t fair to Cas to lose it like this with him, but hearing him say this shit when he doesn’t even know what it means for Dean to hear it really is tormenting.

“I’m trying to keep it together, Cas, but it’s damn hard to remember you’re not really you when you look and sound like you. Then you say shit like that and - it just messes with me. Let’s just... get you back to your room and hope we both feel better after some sleep. Alright?” he finally says.

“Alright, Dean.”

It’s stupid to walk him back to his bedroom when it’s only a door away, but he does it anyway. Cas doesn’t say anything when he walks into his room. Dean stops in the doorway again and says, “Bathroom’s at the end of the hall. You know where the kitchen is if you’re hungry or thirsty. If you need anything else just come and find me. And don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I haven’t really been sleeping much anyway so I’ll probably already be awake.”

Cas nods his head and rubs at his eyes. “My eyes are burning,” Castiel explains.

Dean can’t help the pulse of sadness he feels to hear that. It’s so _human_ and so unlike Cas. “You’ll feel better after you sleep. You’re just tired.” Castiel nods his understanding. Dean shoots him a small smile and turns as if he’s going to leave... but his body stiffens with anxiety and fear with every step he takes away from Cas. His hands are bunched into fists at his sides and he decides to say the thing he always thought whenever Cas was here but never said. “You better still be here in the morning.” He couldn’t say it while looking at him and he probably could’ve said it nicer, but it’s better than not saying it at all.

“I won’t leave you again,” Castiel replies.

Dean tries to tell himself not to take Cas at his word even as hope spreads inside of him. If he doesn’t let himself believe him now then maybe he won’t be as disappointed when he takes off the way Cas always did. He can’t forget that.

He walks back into his bedroom without another word. He goes through the motions of getting ready for bed like a zombie, and when he finally climbs under the blankets a short while later, he still feels that way. He lies in the dark for hours going back and forth between thinking about everything that’s happened tonight and fighting the urge to get up to check if Cas is still there... if he’s sleeping... if he’s okay...

His heart leaps into his throat when he hears the rattle of his doorknob and looks up to see the silhouette of Cas in his doorway. He walks into his room and closes the door behind him, quietly approaching his bed. Cas squats down next to him so he’s even with his height and quietly says, “Dean? I - I think there’s something wrong.”

Now his heart’s in his throat out of fear.

“What’s the matter?”

“I feel - in my chest - it aches. It’s not a part of my body - I think it’s an emotion. It started hurting when you left, and it continued to get worse and worse the longer I stayed in my room. Please, Dean, I don’t want to stay in there anymore.”

 _He’s lonely_ , Dean realizes.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. His throat’s dry both from not talking for so long and from what he’s about to say. “You can stay in here with me... if you want. Not a lot of room in the bed, but we can make it work if we need to.”

Then Cas is straightening up and climbing into Dean’s bed in his very next breath. Cas rolls over and slots himself in along Dean, with his back to Dean’s front like he’s done this a thousand times before.

Dean’s heart is beating so fast he’s sure Cas will be able to feel it, but he drapes his arm around Cas’s waist and pulls him in even closer anyway, not nearly strong enough to resist this here in the dark after wanting it for so long and thinking he’d never get it.

He can feel Cas’s body relaxing with each second that passes, and he has a small smile on his face even before Castiel says, “Thank you, Dean. This is much better.”

Better is an understatement. “That ache in your chest?”

“It’s gone. I feel warm and safe now.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Dean admits quietly. “Try and sleep.”

He lies perfectly still and listens carefully until he hears Cas’s breathing even out and he knows he’s fallen asleep. He feels more peaceful with Cas in his arms than he has in longer than he can remember. He knows Cas doesn’t remember who he is, but maybe that’s the reason why he was willing to come and ask him for what he needed. Cas with his memories back wouldn’t have. His Cas is as stubborn as he is, and he would have just tried to deal with it himself like he always did just so he wouldn’t bother him.

For the first time, he’s almost glad this Cas doesn’t know that the old version of Dean never would have allowed this, no matter how often he’s secretly thought about it. Even if he never gets to have this again, at least he’ll know what it feels like for a night. At least now he knows that being with Cas like this is so undeniably right that it makes him feel like the world’s biggest moron for fighting against it for so long.

He falls asleep telling himself he’s going to do whatever it takes to get Cas’s memories back so that he can have a chance at having this for real, with the Cas who knows who he is and how much this night should mean for them both.

Waking slowly the next morning, he feels warm and well rested for the first time in a really long time. The first thing he’s aware of is the unmistakable scent of Cas permeating his senses. Then he registers strong arms wrapped around him, four legs tangled together, and the way his face is smushed against Cas’s body. He’s sure he fell asleep with his arms around Cas, but somewhere in the night, he must have rolled over and snuggled into the nook between his neck and his shoulder where he is now. His one arm is pinned and completely numb beneath him, but his other one is curled loosely in Cas’s shirt.

Apparently he wants to keep Cas close even when he’s unconscious.

The next thing he’s aware of is the way Cas’s fingers are tracing a soft but rhythmic pattern between his shoulder blades. So Cas is awake. Which means he has no reason to lie here without moving away anymore.

He wishes he did.

He makes a small sound in his throat to let Cas know he’s conscious so he doesn’t startle him when he moves, and he’s greeted with, “Good morning, Dean,” in a voice as deep as it always is, but even rougher with sleep. It sends a shiver through his body and he loosens his hold on Cas’s shirt enough to roll over until he’s on his back.

He gives into the urge to stretch lazily, and when he opens his eyes again that’s when sees the way his morning wood is tenting his pajama pants. In almost the exact same moment, he becomes aware of what must be _Cas’s_ morning erection pressing into his hip.

Son of a bitch.

Without knowing what else to do, he reaches down and pulls the blankets up to his waist and angles his body towards Cas a little bit so his boner isn’t so obvious. Cas isn’t giving him any kind of break here either. He just keeps staring at him, probably wondering why he isn’t saying anything back. And that’s when he remembers that Cas shouldn’t have any idea that two guys sharing a bed waking up with morning wood is all kinds of awkward. Maybe he can just breeze past this.

He clears his throat and answers, “Morning. You sleep okay?”

“Admittedly I have nothing to compare it to, but yes, I feel much better than I did last night.”

“Good.”

“You slept as well,” Castiel comments.

“Yeah. Best I’ve slept since... well, you know.” Which isn’t telling at all. Nope. Not thinking about that right now with Cas’s boner still touching his thigh.

“Do humans always wake up with their penises so hard in the morning?” Castiel asks.

And yeah, hearing Cas say penis while both of them are hard _in his bed_ is a little bit more than he can take before coffee. He covers his face with his hands and says as evenly as he possibly can, “I don’t know. And the reason I don’t know is because dudes don’t talk about this kind of thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s private,” Dean answers. “Personal.”

“That doesn’t make much sense. It’s impossible to share a bed with another man and sleep as close together as we were and not notice. I could feel yours as soon as I woke up. I think it made mine harder.”

“Oh my god,” Dean groans, taken to a new level of embarrassment/arousal he didn’t even know existed until right now. He runs his hands down his face and pulls them away to say, “I can’t talk about this with you, okay?”

“I understand,” Castiel replies, shuffling backwards until he’s sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Sam has offered to help me with anything I need, so I’ll mention it to him later.”

“No!” Dean shouts, quickly shooting up into a sitting position. “Don’t you fucking dare tell Sam about this,” Dean says, his voice more even but still with a hint of panic in it. Cas looks shocked and confused by his outburst and he can’t even fucking believe he has to have this conversation. “I’m only going to say this once and then we’re going to pretend none of this ever happened, okay?” Cas nods his agreement, though his eyebrows are pinched in confusion. Dean focuses on a spot several inches over Cas’s head, and still, he can feel the blush creeping across his cheeks. “Yeah, sometimes guys wake up hard and it’s just because they were sleeping and it doesn’t mean anything more than biology doin’ its thing. But sometimes when dudes get hard it’s because they’re - you know - turned on or sexually aroused.” Cas finally nods his understanding, so he explains, “So if you tell Sam we both woke up like that after sleeping in the same bed, he’s gonna think it’s because I’m - you’re - _we’re_ attracted to each other.”

“Is that private as well?” Castiel asks.

Dean goggles at him and thinks - tries _really hard_ to think about any other way Cas could have meant what he just said other than how it sounded - and comes up completely blank.

“What?” he asks, sounding a hell of a lot more calm than he feels.

“That we’re attracted to each other sexually.”

He lets his head fall back to clunk on the headboard. Ten damn years he’s spent analyzing Cas’s every damn move, look, and lingering touch, waiting and hoping for confirmation that Cas was or wasn’t into guys like that - into _him_ like that - and it comes in the form of a Cas who doesn’t even know who he is while they’re in his bed together both sporting boners.

You can’t make this shit up.

“It was until right now,” Dean finally answers.

Cas’s eyes go a little wide and his lips part in surprise. “All this time - I never told you?”

“I, uh, wasn’t real big on the whole talking about feelings kinda thing before. I’m still not really, just... now that I lost you and thought I might never get a chance... I’m trying to be different now.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a minute or two, then asks, “Is that what you meant yesterday? About how it would be different if I had my memories?” There’s no point in lying about it now after everything he’s already said, so he nods and tries to pretend his cheeks aren’t still burning. Dean jumps when Cas places his hand over top of his and he feels like there both isn’t enough space between them and like there’s way too much. “In that case, I would very much like to get my memories back so we can have this conversation for real.”

He _knows_ it’s a cowardly thing to do, but he swallows hard and asks anyway. “Do you think... the other Cas... Do you think that he...?” Okay, so he _tries_ to ask and ends up feeling like an idiot.

Cas obviously still has a soft spot for him even if he doesn’t know who he is, because he gets his first real smile from him and he’d swear before Chuck himself that he’s never seen anything better in his whole damn life. “It would be impossible not to be.”

The way Cas is looking at him, with his blue eyes all soft, and that smile still on his face... he can’t help it when his eyes drop to his lips, and he feels like the air is actually pulsing with the chemistry between them. He licks his lips subconsciously, and when Cas does the same in response and he gets a flash of that pink tongue, he starts drifting closer and closer to him until somehow his hand is on the back of his neck. There’s a slight tremor that’s moving all throughout his body, but he feels the warmth of Cas’s skin, and the soft hair at the base of his neck beneath his fingertips, and it feels _right_.

It’s Cas who leans the rest of the way in, and just when he knows he’s a heartbeat away from finally knowing what it feels like to kiss Cas after all these years... Sam bursts through the door saying, “I can’t find Ca- oh. _Oh_.”

He jumps away from Cas - forgetting for a split second that they’re two grown men trying to fit on a single mattress - and falls completely off of the side of the bed and onto the floor with a surprised yelp and a loud bang.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, concern evident in his voice.

He banged his elbow on the bed frame on his way down and there’s pain radiating all the way down to his fingers, but it’s still nothing compared to the absolute mortification he’s feeling. Apparently any finesse he’s ever had with women isn’t going to transition into whatever he’s got going on with Cas. He’s still trying to figure out how he can disappear into the floor when Sam breaks his silence and says, “I think this is the happiest moment of my life.”

“Fuck you, Sam,” Dean grumbles, getting to his feet and studiously ignoring looking at Cas. He looks down to see that the appearance of his brother was at least enough to kill his boner. Small miracles.

“I didn’t mean to _interrupt_ ,” Sam says with a huge know-it-all smirk on his face, “but I came in here to tell you that I couldn’t find Cas. I thought he took off again. I don’t know why I didn’t think to look in your room. Or in your bed. Or an inch away from your face.”

If looks could kill, Sam would be dead a hundred times over.

“I wasn’t feeling well sleeping alone. Dean was kind enough to let me sleep in his room when we realized I felt better when I wasn’t alone anymore,” Castiel explains.

Sam’s expression softens. “I’m glad he helped you not to feel lonely, Cas-tiel.” Dean sees the flicker of pain in Sam’s expression as he corrects himself. This has gotta be hard for him, too, and some of his anger is replaced with feeling bad for him. “I’m sure all of this is pretty overwhelming for you.”

“I believe it might have helped Dean as well. He was still sleeping when I woke up.”

Sam’s eyes flick to Dean again and he nods his head in understanding. “That’s great, Dean. Guess you weren’t feeling lonely anymore either, huh?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Can you take Cas and show him how the shower works?”

“You sure you don’t want to show him? You could offer to save water or something,” Sam suggests, not even bothering to hide his smile this time.

“You’re really gonna be a pain in the ass about this huh?”

Sam snorts. “Ten years I watched you dance around each other and I never said a word. Now all bets are off.”

“So the way we feel about each other _isn’t_ private?” Castiel asks.

Sam lets out a hoot of laughter while Dean groans, “Apparently not. But for the record asswipe,” he says in Sam’s direction, “nothing happened.” _I just had the best sleep of my life because we cuddled all night long and then we almost kissed after talking about our dicks._ “He still doesn’t know who we are.”

Sam makes a face of confusion and asks, “And he still...?”

Dean sees the opportunity and takes it. “Once he saw how pretty I look all rumpled in the morning he couldn’t resist me.”

Sam looks like he’s smelled something horrible for a split second before he laughs. “I _know_ that’s not true.”

“Shut up,” Dean says quicky. “At least I don’t look like some kinda furry animal died on top of my head overnight.”

Sam gives him an annoyed look reserved only for when he makes fun of his hair and says, “Come on, Castiel. I’ll show you how to work the shower while my kind hearted brother cooks us breakfast.”

“I am hungry,” Castiel says, getting out of bed and following Sam out of his bedroom.

Dean looks at his clock and sees it’s only nine thirty. Gonna be one hell of a day.


	4. Chapter 4

After he and Cas both shower - separately, _thank you very much, Sam_ \- they eat breakfast, and the three of them sit in the library wearing sweats and old t-shirts as they start going through books trying to figure out a spell or potion or something they can make to get an angel’s memories back. Dean loses his trail of thought several times when he thinks about how seeing Cas in his clothes makes him feel all warm and, well, kinda possessive. He tries to remember he needs _his_ Cas back to really explore any of that and refocuses each time with new determination.

They spend a good portion of the day bent over book after book, and Cas seems to get more and more restless as the day goes on. He doesn’t know if it’s because Cas was always the only one who never used to get restless (with his endless patience coupled with the fact that he never got tired, he always had laser focus even when they used to research for days at a time) or what it is, but for whatever reason, his wiggling around started grating on Dean’s nerves hours ago and right about now he’s ready to throw the damn guy in the dungeon and lock him up if he doesn’t fucking _stop_.

“Cas, I swear I’ll kill you again myself if you don’t stop freaking fidgeting!” Dean barks at him, banging his hand on the table to let out some of his frustration.

“Dean,” Sam says, clearly disapproving.

“Dean, may I see you for a moment... in private?” Castiel asks.

“Not now, Cas, I’m kinda in the middle of something and you clearly have an ants in your pants situation you need to deal with,” Dean answers, still annoyed by him.

“Dean, please. If you want me to stop fidgeting and contribute to the research then it’s imperative that I speak with you.”

“Dean, just go with him. I’ll keep looking,” Sam offers.

“Fine,” Dean sighs, getting to his feet. “Lead the way, wiggles.”

He hears Sam huff in fond exasperation behind him and grins to himself. He _is_ pretty funny. Cas heads towards Dean’s bedroom, and now he’s definitely intrigued with what the hell is going on.

Dean follows him into his room and arches a brow when Cas closes the door behind him. Before he has a chance to say something witty, there’s that _whoosh_ sound again and Cas’s wings are suddenly visible.

In the light of his bedroom he can see just how disheveled they are - though he’s surprised they aren’t burned anymore like they were last night - and when Cas rolls his shoulders and shakes out his wings making some feathers flutter onto the floor, he finally gets it.

“Shit, Cas, those must be driving you crazy.”

Cas nods in agreement. “I’m sorry. I know I was distracting you, but the longer I tried to ignore them the more I couldn’t stop thinking about them.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve known something was wrong. Sorry for losing my temper.”

The tips of Cas’s wings flutter when he says, “I can’t remove the feathers that are falling out without assistance.”

His face is all kinds of red, and Dean wonders why admitting to that is so embarrassing for him. It’s not his fault his hands can’t reach around his wings. It sorta seems like there’s more he wants to say, but after he waits a couple of seconds and Cas doesn’t keep talking, Dean answers him. “Well, I can help you pull them out if you want, but Sam’s the one who actually knows shit about angels and their feathers and stuff. He’d probably be able to help you better than I can.”

Cas’s feathers are fluttering more wildly now and some of them puff up, making him look flustered or uneasy or something. “An angel choosing to allow somebody to touch their wings is considered an act of intimacy. I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with Sam.”

He knows he shouldn’t be smiling, but he can feel a small smile on his face anyway. “But you do with me?”

“You have my mark,” he replies simply. “You’re mine whether I remember it or not. Yes, I feel comfortable with you grooming my wings.”

“Grooming,” Dean repeats under his breath, feeling funny about thinking about Cas like that. “You know I’ll help you however you need. Just... I dunno, tell me where to start.”

Cas turns around, braces his forearms on the wall now in front of him, and spreads his wings with a shuddering sigh. Dean tries not to get distracted by the rippling muscles in his shoulders or the way his biceps are bulging as he holds his upper body up. Not to mention the display of raw power in those wings of his.

“Any feathers that don’t fall in line with the others need to be either repositioned or pulled out entirely if they’re loose.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No. It will feel... akin to scratching an itch. I’ll be much more comfortable when we’re finished.”

“Okay,” Dean says. His voice is slightly lower than usual, but that’s probably because he’s feeling so nervous about this. He’s still worried he’s going to hurt him accidentally. “I guess I’ll just dive in then.”

Except he doesn’t because he doesn’t know where to start. His wings aren’t all that messy now that he’s really looking at them, but there’s a couple of clumps that he imagines would feel pretty rough, and there’s even some leaves and twigs that must’ve gotten stuck in there when he crashed through the trees when he fell. He decides to start with those. He plucks the first couple of leaves from the feathers, and then touches Cas’s feathers for the first time when he has to part them to get the biggest twig out. They’re much softer than he thought they would be, and he feels a smile tug at his lips again when he smooths them back into place once the twig’s out.

He’s caught off guard when Cas lets out this quiet little gasp.

“Shit, sorry, did I hurt you?” Dean checks.

“N-no,” Castiel replies. “But my feathers are very sensitive.”

“Oh.” Interesting. “They’re, uh, really soft. Softer than I would’ve thought looking at them,” he admits. He runs his fingers through them from the center of Cas’s back to the tip of each wing, manipulating the feathers with his fingers until they’re pointing the same way.

“Hey, how come you’re human now but you still have your wings? The rest of us don’t have wings.”

“They’re a part of me. Like limbs for the rest of you. Not having my wings would be unimaginable.”

He pulls out another little twig and a few more leaves as they talk. “Does it use some of your grace or whatever when you make them go invisible?”

“No. It’s just something I can do.”

He begins fidgeting with an unruly clump of feathers when something else occurs to him. “How come there’s not holes in your shirt if they come and go?”

“It’s - it’s difficult to explain.” Cas pauses to let out a quiet sigh as Dean’s fingers dig deeper while he keeps working on that clump. “You can see them and feel them because I want you to, but they’re not really on the ethereal plane.”

That’s totally over his head, but it makes him wonder... “Can you still, you know, fly?” Dean asks gently.

“No,” Cas answers, and the tone he uses to say that one word is enough for Dean to know that’s a sore spot, so he doesn’t ask anything else. He doesn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is. He tries to ignore the wave of sadness he feels on Cas’s behalf and starts the grooming process all over again at the base of a new section of his wing. Now that they’ve stopped talking, that scent he always associates with Cas seems to be getting stronger by the minute, and combined with the way his fingers are weaving through his wings rhythmically, it’s incredibly soothing.  

“This is kinda nice. Relaxing, you know? I could probably fall asleep petting your wings.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes heavily.

“Sorry - is that weird to say? ‘Cause you can tell me to back off if you need to.”

“No. I’m... enjoying this v-very much. I hadn’t a-” he gasps when Dean’s fingers dig deeper into his feathers to get to some of the ruffled feathers underneath “ - anticipated it would feel quite like this as a human.”

“How’s it feel?”

“Incredibly sensual,” he explains.

“ _Sensual_?” Dean says, pausing with both of his hands still buried in one of his wings. “Dude, am I doing the angel equivalent of feeling you up right now?”

“I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

He notices for the first time that Cas’s shoulders are holding a whole lot of tension, and his fingers are gripping at the door so hard they’re white with exertion. Dean hesitates for a second, but ultimately sinks his hands deeper into his feathers with curiosity, and the low moan that Cas lets out is a pretty good answer to the feeling him up question. Damn.

“Kinda kinky, Cas,” he teases. “Gotta say, I was not expecting that.” Then again, he wasn’t expecting his dick to give an interested twitch in his pants at the sound of Cas’s moan either, but here he is.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Castiel accuses him, his voice rougher than usual. He tries to pretend that it doesn’t sound like pure sex and that his body isn’t reacting to it.

“Well I wasn’t at first, but that last time I did,” he confesses. All of his pent up sexual desire comes out as a flirtation that he can’t quite hold back. “Just doing some research. Taking note of what you like... for later.”

Cas releases a shaky breath and lets his head fall back when Dean runs a hand through each wing slowly, letting his feathers slide through his fingers as he goes. Damn, he wants to nibble on that jawline of his. If he pressed his lips to the bolt of his jaw, maybe Cas would turn towards him and -

“Now you know why I didn’t want Sam to help me,” Castiel sighs.

Jealousy and possessiveness spike inside of him so fast his fingers tighten in Cas’s wings without him meaning to, eliciting another low moan from Cas that he can’t even try to pretend his dick doesn’t take a _very_ keen interest in. If he keeps making sounds like that they’re gonna have a real problem here.

Okay, fine, _more_ of a problem.

“I know I don’t have any kinda claim on you like you do me, but I’m telling you right now, you let anybody else get their hands on these gorgeous wings of yours and I’m gonna be fucking _pissed_.”

“You - you like my wings?” Cas’s voice is smaller than he thinks he’s ever heard it. Like he’s self conscious about them or something.

“‘Course I like ‘em. They’re awesome. They’re the exact same color as your hair, but uh, shinier.” That’s not the right word to describe the way the light makes each individual feather look like it’s alive, but he’s never been real good with words. “They almost glimmer in the light, you know? But they’re still masculine and bad ass, none of that prissy, fluffy white wing shit I thought you guys would have. Nah. These are freakin’ awesome. And so damn soft.” He runs his fingers along the edge of his wings, tracing the shape of the tiny, downy feathers. He thinks he might hear a soft whimper from Cas, so just to be a prick, he rubs a feather between his fingertips in small circles as he elaborates. “Definitely the softest thing I’ve ever felt. I could bury my hands in these suckers and still not get enough. Bet they’d feel real nice if you could tuck me right up inside of them. Like the world’s softest blanket.”

“Deeean,” Castiel whines. And yeah, the way he just said his name is definitely going in the spank bank.

He’s not at all surprised by how deep his own voice comes out when he replies, “What’s up, Cas?”

“You’re arousing me again.”

Dean smirks as a bolt of desire hits him like lightning. “Me talking about your wings does it for ya, huh?”

“It would appear so.”

He leans in close enough so his lips brush his ear when he says, “Mmm. I’ll remember that.”

The next thing he knows Cas has him pressed back against the door he was facing only a second ago, and some not-so-secret part of him actually fucking swoons at the way Cas just manhandled him like he weighs nothing. It doesn’t help anything at all when he sees how flushed Cas is, the way his bottom lip is red and plump from where he must have been biting it, and how his eyes are dark with lust.

 _Fuck_ he’s hot. How many times has he fantasized about getting him worked up like this? Seeing his angel finally lose his cool and really _feel_ something good for once. Now Cas isn’t the only one breathing hard and that attraction sizzling in what little space there is between them is so palpable he wouldn’t be surprised if actual sparks started exploding.

“Dean... I - I need you to - I really want to...” Castiel begs him, his eyes dropping down to focus on Dean’s lips.

And Dean’s powerless to resist the unspoken request. He fists his hands in Cas’s shirt to pull him in and Cas surges forwards until their lips crash together with a groan. Cas’s lips are so fucking soft, but searing hot and needy at the same time. It’s so damn perfect Dean can’t stop the deep sound of pleasure he lets out as his hands move up his chest and around his neck. He’s about to part his lips to try for more when Cas suddenly pulls away gasping.

“ _Dean_ ,” he says, and a shiver runs up Dean’s spine at the way he just said his name. How many times has he heard _his Cas_ say his name like that? He shoves aside his arousal for a second and carefully takes in the expression on Cas’s face. He sees a hint of panic but at the same time, is that _recognition_ in his eyes?

“Dean, I remember.” Dean’s sure his heart must stop, because it feels like time does, too. “I remember you. I remember everything. Oh, Dean,” he gasps, and then he launches himself at him again, pulling him away from the door and into the tightest hug of his life. Cas envelopes him so completely in his arms _and_ his wings that all he can see, smell, and feel is Cas. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. You were in so much pain and I couldn’t get back to you, but I could feel it and - and it was excruciating. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t find my way back sooner.”

“Cas?” he chokes out, clinging to him as tight as he can as tears start to blur his vision.

“It’s me. It’s really me,” he promises, running one hand up and down his back, and cradling the back of his head with the other. “I know about raising you from Hell. I know about Sam and Baby. I know who you are, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes as relief floods him and he loses the battle of fighting back his tears. “Fuck I missed you,” he gasps, pressing his face into the curve of his shoulder.

“Dean,” Castiel sighs again, his hands trying to pull him in even closer. “It’s alright. It’s alright now. Please don’t - you’ve cried for me so much already,” he says softly. Then Cas pulls away enough to put his hands on his face, brushing his tears away with his thumbs. Seeing the softness in his expression and the affection in his eyes is almost enough to bring him to his knees, because now he _knows_ this is Cas. Because _this_ is how Cas has looked at him now for years, and he didn’t know how much he missed it until right now.

“H-how? What the hell happened to you!?” Dean asks. “You were - I saw you die.”

With a _woosh_ his wings disappear again and he gives Dean a shy smile. “Perhaps we’ll get back to my wings later, if you’re still agreeable after I explain everything.” Dean nods stupidly. “Let’s go get Sam so I only have to tell what happened once.” Dean nods again, feeling like an absolute idiot who’s frozen to the spot. “Dean? Are you okay?”

 _Is he_ okay? He runs his hand through his hair as he mentally tries to get his shit back together. It’s harder to talk to Cas about how he feels knowing it’s really _his Cas_ again and that he’s going to be aware of just how out of character this is for him. But still, he has to try. He told himself he would.

“Lotta shit happened in the last five minutes. Feels like I got whiplash. One minute we were...” but he trails off, embarrassed to admit he kissed Cas when Cas didn’t even know who he was. He almost feels like he was cheating on him or something, which is ridiculous. “And now...”

“Believe me, I would very much like to get back to kissing you as soon as possible,” Castiel says with a small smile.

And then Dean suddenly knows what it feels like to have his heart skip a beat. “You still...?”

Cas cups his face again and as his eyelids flutter closed at the knowledge that this is _Cas_ touching him like this, he wonders if this is gonna be a thing now. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

“Dean,” Castiel says, prompting him to open his eyes again. “Always,” he tells him, and it feels like that one word sends every bit of light - the light he’s been missing since he saw it come pouring out of Cas - shining right back into him.

His eyes fill with tears all over again, and Cas offers another soft smile and traces his cheekbone with his thumb before he takes his hand and leads the way back to where Sam is still bent over a stack of books.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel greets him with a big smile.

Sam’s head pops up, his gaze looking from Cas to Dean, dropping to their entwined hands, and then back to Cas again.

“C-Cas?” Sam asks cautiously.

“I remember,” Castiel confirms, and he lets go of Dean’s hand to approach Sam and pull him into a hug - one that ends with a manly pat on the back that Dean didn’t get after his hug, he notices with amusement.

“Damn good to have you back, man,” Sam says, and he decides not to mention just how choked up Sam sounds since his brother’s not saying anything about how red his eyes must be. Sam takes a deep breath, pushes his stupid hair out of his face and says, “What the hell happened?”

“Almost exactly what I said,” Dean tells him, trying to act like everything is normal by taking his seat in the chair he was sitting in earlier and closing the huge book in front of him with a loud _boom_. Cas walks so that he’s standing behind Dean and rests his hand between his shoulder blades, effectively ruining the _everything’s normal_ illusion. Sam has another little smirk on his face but Dean can’t find it in him to care right now. Not when he’s got Cas’s thumb brushing back and forth on his back and he’s about to find out where he’s been all this time.

“I woke up in The Empty,” he says.

“ _The Empty?”_ Sam repeats in awe.

“Yes. There was a cosmic entity that tried to get me to go back to sleep. He told me that out of all the angels and all of the demons who have ended up there, I was the only one who ever woke up. He was quite rude, and he said all he wanted was for me to go back to sleep so that _he_ could go back to sleep.”

“So what happened? How did you get away?” Sam asks.

“I realized quite quickly that my best chance at getting out of there was to do the exact opposite of what he wanted and _not_ fall back asleep. So I stayed awake, talking as much as I could and generally being as distracting as possible until he got so frustrated that he flung me out of The Empty entirely,” Castiel explains.

“Wait - you _annoyed_ your way out of The Empty?” Dean asks him, grinning at the idea while he looks up at Cas.

“I suppose I did, yes,” Castiel answers with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Well that’s freakin’ awesome,” Dean beams.

“That’s great, Cas, but then how did you become human?” Sam asks.

“One moment I was in The Empty, and the next moment I was in Heaven with Jack,” he says. He takes a few steps until he crouches down beside Dean. “I was right, Dean. He _is_ good. He’s filled with so much light it’s almost unfathomable.” There’s more pride in his expression than Dean thinks he’s ever seen from him in his life.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you were right, Cas. He’s a good kid. He got mom back for us _and_ left Lucifer to rot in the apocalypse world. He’s done real good.”

“He knew I wanted to get back to you both - but to you, especially, Dean, because you were in so much pain. But we have so few angels in Heaven now that he couldn’t spare me when so many other angels are working themselves so hard. So he offered me a choice.”

“Stay in Heaven and work like an angel, or come to earth and live as a human,” Sam guesses, sliding his hand over his mouth, clearly shocked.

“Exactly.”

Dean can’t even begin to process why Cas would choose to be with them when he could have stayed in Heaven with Jack and all the other angels, but it wasn’t his choice to make - and honestly, he’d probably be pretty uncomfortable with the answer if he asked.

“So why didn’t you remember us?” he asks instead.

Cas’s eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head slightly. “The very last thing he said to me before he took my grace was, ‘If we don’t change, we don’t grow. And if we don’t grow, we aren’t really living.’”

Dean looks at Cas in confusion but Sam snorts beside them. They both look over at him, and Sam’s eyebrows are so far up on his forehead he wouldn’t be surprised if they flew off entirely. “Seriously? It’s a famous quote. Even Jack knew the two of you wouldn’t get your heads out of your asses if _something_ didn’t change, so he changed Cas, probably thinking that Dean’s at his best when he has somebody he loves to take care of.”

Cas smiles down at Dean. “The last part _is_ true.”

Dean rolls his eyes and looks away from him.

“Hang on a second. What happened between when you two left and when you just came back though?” Sam asks. “How did you get your memories back?”

Cas and Dean look at each other and then away quickly, and Dean can feel his face getting hot because he damn well knows Sam is going to figure it out just based on their reactions to the question.

“Let me guess, you finally told Cas that you’ve been in love with him for years and the spell broke?”

“What!? No! No, I didn’t - I haven’t - I’m not...” but then he just gives up and lets his sputtering die.

“You’re close, though,” Castiel says to Sam, saving Dean from his misery. “Do you remember the fairy tale Beauty and The Beast?”

Sam’s smile grows as he figures it out. “Jack loved that movie; the cartoon and the live action version. So a true love’s kiss broke the spell, is that it? Isn’t that cute.”

Before Cas can answer, Dean says, “Sorry, Sam. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sam shakes his head in exasperation. “You _always_ kiss and tell!” Dean just shrugs and grins playfully. “Whatever. I’m going to start putting these books away since we don’t need them anymore. I’m glad you’re really back, Cas.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Castiel answers. “Dean, perhaps we can continue our earlier conversation somewhere more private?”

It’s not like he didn’t know this was coming, but still, his heart starts pounding again even as he nods his agreement. He gets out of his seat and shoots a nervous smile in Sam’s direction. “Talk to you later.”

“I’ll put my headphones on,” he answers, and Dean gives him the finger over his shoulder as he walks down the hall to his room.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s Dean who closes - and locks - the door behind him this time, and when he crosses his small room to sit on his bed with his back to the headboard, Cas comes to join him but sits at the foot of the bed instead of beside him.

“I’m sure you have some questions,” Castiel offers.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. Only about a billion of them. He doesn’t know if he should dive right in and tell him everything he’s been dreaming about telling him since the moment he dropped to his knees beside his body or ease into it. He decides to go for the lightest questions first. “How come you never told me the angel blade you gave me was made from your grace?”

“I thought you knew about that. Sam and I have discussed where angel blades come from, and I suppose I assumed that because he knew, you knew as well. Yours and mine are the only angel blades in existence made from my grace.”

Dean swallows down a lump in his throat at the thought of Cas giving him and only him something like that. “Glad I kept yours then. Got it with, uh, your wallet, car keys, and phone outta your pockets before we - you know - when you want them back.”

“That was very thoughtful of you, especially knowing how much distress you were in at the time. Thank you.”

“Just wanted to keep whatever I could of yours. Was gonna keep your coat, too, ‘cause that’s your thing, but the blood...” He stops talking when the memory hits him again.

“Dean,” Castiel says softly, scooting up the bed until he’s beside him. “Can I...?” He holds out his hand tentatively like he wants to comfort him, and Dean just nods his head. Cas lays his hand on Dean’s knee, rubbing it gently, and Dean lets out a shaky breath and covers his hand with his, squeezing it a little. “Is this okay?” Castiel asks him.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, feeling better already just from holding Cas’s hand. It makes him feel like he’s really here. “Tell me about the brand thing. Your handprint.”

Cas drops his gaze and looks down at his lap like he’s ashamed. “It was an accident,” he begins. “Branding you was the only way I could get you past the gates of Hell, but I was under the impression that the brand would disappear entirely once I got your soul back into your body... but instead, you held so tight to the grace that lingered within you, it marked you as mine to anybody who could see it.”

It’s stupid to feel disappointed, but that’s the first thing he feels. “I get it. It wasn’t like you chose me or anything, it was just something else I fucked up.”

Cas turns his hand over until they’re palm to palm, and he curls his fingers around Dean’s. “You have the most beautiful soul I have ever seen. Even in Hell, after all of the torture you had endured and all of the things you saw, your soul was still so _pure_. I didn’t know at the time that the man the soul belonged to was everything I hoped humanity could be, but you are. And although I didn’t mean to brand you that way, I’m not sorry I did. I’m proud that I was the one who put you back together, and more than that, I’m proud to be bound to you.”

There’s no way Cas means this shit. After all of the times he’s fucked up, all of the horrible things he’s had to do that Cas knows about. It’s impossible. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

He doesn’t turn to look directly at Cas, but he can see the way he’s staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Finally, Castiel says, “I didn’t think I would have to tell you this, because I really thought you knew. But now I’m not so sure. While my brand wasn’t originally put on you by choice, the more I came to know you... I _did_ consciously choose you over and over again, Dean. I chose to disobey my orders and help you when I wasn’t supposed to. I chose you over my entire army - my family. I chose to fight and die in the apocalypse world so _you_ could have a chance to get away and live. I chose to Fall permanently to live out the rest of my life with you, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. All because I know you _now_ , and I know I couldn’t have chosen a better person to brand if I tried.” He waits for his words to sink in for a minute before he says, “In fact, I rather like to think that it wasn’t an accident at all. More like an act of divine intervention. Like my Father knew what you would be to me long before I ever did and wanted to make sure I’d never lose sight of you.”

Dean’s throat feels tight with emotion. So many words want to get out all at once and he doesn’t even know where to begin. He wants to tell Cas he wasn’t worth any of those choices. To remind him that Chuck’s a dick who never seemed to give two shits about Cas _or_ him. He ends up defaulting to another question he had lined up in his mind, instead. “Could - could you always see my soul get brighter when you were around?”

“Yes,” Cas answers with a small smile.

“So you knew.” He knew and he still didn’t want to be with him. 

“I only knew that your soul was happier the closer you got to me.”

“And you can still see it now even though you’re human?” Dean checks.

“I can, but I know it will fade. When I was human before it faded completely within a couple of days. When I saw your face instead of your soul for the first time at the Gas N Sip, I realized that I was so distracted by the unique beauty of your soul that I hadn’t even noticed that your face was just as beautiful. I was so flustered I could barely even look at you.”

“Come on,” Dean scoffs, embarrassed, but also kinda happy Cas finally admitted to liking the way he looked.

“It’s the truth,” Castiel insists. “I would have told you sooner about being able to see your soul, but once I got to know you I knew how uncomfortable it would make you if you knew I could see it.”

“You ain’t wrong,” Dean tells him. “You can see when I’m upset or something, too, can’t you?”

Cas stares at him for several seconds before he responds. “I can see anytime you react to something strongly. Whether it’s happiness, despair, anger, hurt. I try to be conscious of not acting on that, knowing it gives me an unfair advantage over you. Admittedly, I don’t always succeed, and I apologize for that.”

A part of him feels kinda weird knowing that Cas has known whenever he’s felt a lot of anything for the last ten years, but another part of him is almost happy knowing that no matter how hard he might try to hide how he feels (especially now when everything’s so new and confusing) that Cas is gonna know anyway. Sorta takes the pressure off of trying to put feelings into words.

“Guess No-Memories-Cas didn’t know me well enough to keep a lid on it, huh?” Dean says, trying to lighten the conversation a bit.

“And yet he managed to accomplish things that I had only dreamed about,” Castiel says. He’s gotta be talking about that kiss, right? Or maybe sleeping with him last night? “I admit I hoped the way your soul lit up when you were close to me might mean you felt something beyond friendship, but after so many years - and especially after I finally told you that I loved you and you never said anything back - I accepted that while you obviously enjoyed my company, it just wasn’t the same for you as it is for me.”

“Hang on a second. When did you tell me you loved me?” Dean asks in alarm.

“In the barn with Ramiel. I was dying, and I knew it was a cowardly admission to make before I left you to deal with that on your own, but I also wanted to tell you at least once before it was too late.”

Dean remembers the moment he heard Cas say that - the moment his own heart had stopped when he thought he was going to lose something he hadn’t even defined yet - but then Cas added, “I love all of you,” and he realized pretty damn fast he didn’t mean just him. So he let it go and tried not to think about it.

“I - I didn’t know you meant just me. I thought you meant everybody both times.”

“No,” Castiel says with his lips twitching into a small smile. “The first one was just for you and meant in an entirely different way.”

He smiles back, but he still doesn’t know if he means he _loved_ him in the past or loves him in the present.

“What am I to you _now_?” The question is out of his mouth before he knew he decided to ask it.

“Everything,” Castiel confesses quietly. “You’re everything to me, Dean.”

He feels a lightness - a weight removed he didn’t even realize he was carrying - hearing those words from Cas, and it makes him feel like he can tell him how he feels, too.

“For years... I always felt different with you. I didn’t always know it was this,” he says, squeezing Cas’s hand, “or at least I didn’t want to admit it. I kept trying to tell you how I felt, but it kept coming out as the brother thing,” he says with a small laugh, which Cas groans at. “It was hard!” he defends. “I didn’t even know if you were into guys.”

“I didn’t know if you were either.”

Dean swallows hard. “Only sometimes,” he admits quietly. “But there weren’t any clues when it came to you. Even when chicks were coming on to you, you never looked like you were into any of them. I kinda wondered if angels weren’t into that kind of thing at all.”

“I am fairly certain if you asked other people, they would say there were plenty of clues for who I was into,” Castiel says. “But you’re right about one thing: I wasn’t into anybody else. There was never room for anybody else with how I feel about you, Dean. Even if you didn’t feel the same.”

“It’s not - I - I mean, I knew I felt stuff for you that was more than friendly and that I was attracted to you for a while,” Dean admits, his cheeks burning again at how bad he’s fucking this up. He told himself he’d tell Cas everything if he had the chance, but trying to fight through just how awkward this is to talk about is even harder than he thought it would be. “But it wasn’t until you were gone - when I saw you die and realized that so many of my _maybe someday_ dreams died with you - that I really got it. In my head I’d been planning to be with you once everything settled down, but I never actually told you, and I thought I’d never get to.”

He stops to take a breath and tries to explain how hard it was. “We’ve lost so many fucking people - good people, family, friends, best friends - and not a single one of them hit me as hard as losing you. I didn’t want to hunt or live this kinda life anymore because all it reminded me of was how much it cost me. I lost the dream that was keeping me going. That maybe someday all that other shit would be over with and we could just have this,” he squeezes Cas’s hand. “I couldn’t feel anything except this - this hole inside of me.”

“I could feel your anguish. I can’t even comprehend how you got yourself out of bed when you were feeling so much pain. I knew I had to come back to you. You have to know that being an angel or being with you wasn’t even a choice,” Castiel tells him.

“I started feeling better the second you landed on top of me,” Dean says, his lips turning up into a smile. “But now you’re human... and you know how I feel...”

“More or less,” Castiel comments, and because he knows Cas, he knows he’s teasing him a little.

He nudges him with his shoulder and says, “Well it ain’t like you’ve come out and said it either.”

Cas gives him an actual smile this time, showing a flash of teeth and making Dean smile in response. “Maybe Jack should have made that the requirement to get my memories back,” Castiel suggests.

Dean’s smile only falls slightly. “Thing is, I’m not good at talking about this kinda stuff, or saying _that_. This is the most I’ve talked to anybody about anything like this... probably ever.”

“I know. I’m very pleased you’re trying so hard.”

Dean nods, knowing that he means that sincerely and not as a backhanded compliment or anything. “Seriously though... you _know_ , right? How I feel?”

“I believe I do. But I don’t want to risk losing what we have again because of all the things we aren’t saying.” Castiel looks up from their clasped hands into his eyes. “I’m in love with you, Dean. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’m quite positive I will love you until the day I leave this Earth permanently.”

_Holy shit._

Being pretty sure somebody loves you and hearing that person say it while they’re looking right at you are apparently two very different things, because he feels like he can’t breathe now that he’s heard those words come out of Cas’s mouth. Because now there’s no more doubt, no more wondering, and no more reason to hold anything back.

Cas loves him.

“Do you love me as well?”

He knows it’s no accident that Cas has phrased this as a yes or no question so that he can answer it without having to say the words. Cas knows him well enough to know it’s easier for him to say _yes_ than to actually say the words _I love you..._  but the confession still isn’t _easy_. Admitting to this is going to change everything forever.

But then again, that’s exactly what he wanted when he thought he’d never get the chance to actually have it, and remembering what that felt like for a split second gives him the boost he needs to push the fear away. So he stops thinking about how easily this could go sideways, and instead, he prepares to agree to what (as far as he knows) nobody has ever told Cas.

Realizing that Cas has never known what it feels like to hear somebody say they love him is enough to stop him in his tracks and send all thoughts of not actually saying it flying out of the proverbial window. Ten damn years he’s known Cas, and after everything they’ve been through, everything Cas has sacrificed for him and Sam, he’s never once told him that he loves him? _Fuck._ Cas deserves to know what it feels like to hear it. He deserves to know that he’s loved. Not only by him, but maybe by him more than anybody else. If nobody’s ever said it to him before, he wants to be the first.

“Yeah, I do.” He swallows and looks him in the eye the same way Cas did for him, and says as steadily as he can, “I love you, Cas.”

Cas smiles as big as he’s ever seen, showing teeth and gums, and Dean couldn’t withhold his answering smile if he wanted to. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda getting that from the big dopey smile on your face,” he answers. Cas ducks his head to try and hide his smile, but that isn’t what Dean wants. “Looks good on you,” he tells him, letting go of his hand to tip his head back up. “You don’t smile enough.”

Maybe he’ll be able to change that.

“I feel like I couldn’t stop smiling right now if I tried to,” Castiel answers.

“Well, that’s too bad. I was sorta hoping to try the kissing thing again now that you know who I am, but if you can’t stop smiling then -”

He’s cut off mid-sentence by Castiel’s lips on his. His lips were still turned up into a smile, so it takes a second for them to line up properly, but when they do it’s perfect. Life changing. The kind of kiss that knocks you on your ass and echoes inside of your head: _This is it, moron. Don’t screw it up._

The sexual tension the two of them have been trying to keep at bay for years explodes between them immediately, and Cas’s enthusiasm is matched quickly by his own. Cas’s lips press against his incessantly, over and over while he angles his head this way and that until Dean finally realizes his hand is still on his face and he takes control of the kiss by holding him exactly the way he wants him. His tongue barely leaves his mouth before Castiel’s is pushing back against it, and he makes a sound of surprise when Cas suddenly gets to his knees. Cas is obviously trying to get closer to him but doesn’t seem to know exactly how. Dean slides his hand up the back of his leg and guides it over him so he can straddle him on his bed, never once breaking their kiss. Dean’s hands slide up his back to sink into his soft hair, and a small sound of pleasure escapes him to finally know what it feels like.

Cas’s lips are just as soft as they were the first time they kissed. Feeling them pressed so firmly to his own with their stubble scraping together and Cas’s tongue sliding against his passionately is _exactly_ the right combination to get him going from zero to a hundred.

Well, that, and the fact that Cas is on top of him. Sweatpants are way too thin for this and they leave very little to the imagination when it comes to just how into each other they both are.

“Cas -” Dean says, breaking away from his lips to try to remember to think straight. This is _Cas_ and he doesn’t want to fuck this up before it even starts by jumping right into bed.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel answers - in that fucking voice of his that’s always gone right to his dick.

Dean drops his hands to his hips to hold him still before he doesn’t have the willpower to do it, but Cas just leans down and nips at his bottom lip, and Dean can’t help it when his mouth opens for Cas to kiss him again because it’s just so fucking good. His thumbs trace the jut of Cas’s hip bones while Cas continues kissing him like he’s starving for it. His fingers dig into his flesh, trying desperately to keep himself from chasing the hint of friction Cas is providing by shifting on top of him.

They break apart again for air, but this time Dean satisfies his earlier curiosity by lightly scraping his teeth along his jaw and then soothing the scrape with wet kisses that make Cas whimper.

“Dean,” Castiel says again, breathy this time. Cas is bracing himself with his hands on Dean’s shoulders, and his fingers tighten every time Dean flicks his tongue on his skin.

“Mmm,” Dean responds, not willing to tear his lips away from all of Cas he hasn’t tasted yet.

“This feels - this feels so good.”

“Good,” Dean answers, making his way slowly down his neck with his mouth open.

“Dean, please, I need -” Castiel starts, then drags Dean’s face back up to kiss him again, teeth clacking from the combination of Cas’s eagerness and inexperience. Their bodies start to roll together anyway as Cas’s kisses only grow more and more heated. Dean’s hands slide up under his shirt, feeling his bare skin warm under his palms for the first time and eliciting a moan from Castiel that vibrates against his lips. He splays his hands on his lower back, fighting the urge to move them down to squeeze his ass. He doesn’t want to move too fast and freak him out but he’s having a hard time holding himself back because he’s more turned on right now than he’s been in for-fucking-ever.

Cas gyrates his hips in a particularly sinful move that almost has Dean’s eyes rolling up in his head even as he rocks back against him instinctively, fervently following the motion.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Dean lets slip.

“M-me?” Castiel asks, stopping for the first time just to look at him with his head cocked to the side.

“Yeah, you,” Dean answers, his chest heaving as his heart melts at his expression. “You have no idea how many times I thought about this.”

Cas captures his lips in another brutal kiss. “I thought about it all the time. I thought about what it would feel like to - to kiss you.” He kisses him long and hard, until Dean can’t remember what it was they were talking about. “To touch you,” he says, running his hands down his face and along his shoulders, “and it’s - it’s so much better than I thought it would be.”

“I know,” Dean agrees, pulling him in to kiss him again, sucking on the tip of his tongue this time. Cas whimpers again and Dean keeps moving his hands up and down Cas’s arms as he pulls away with a smile. “So damn good, Cas. I get it, believe me, but you’re gonna have to stop moving on top of me like a porn star if you wanna slow this down.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” Castiel says, grinding down on him deliberately this time and making Dean’s jaw drop in pleasure. “I want you to keep touching me, and I want to keep kissing you, and I - I want to see what you look like when you come.”

“Shit,” Dean breathes, his fingers gripping at his muscular arms now. “I didn’t think you’d be like this.”

“I haven’t had sex in almost five years, Dean, and I’ve wanted _you_ for much longer than that. I had to sit back and listen to you talk about woman after woman who was with you the way _I_ wanted to be.”

Cas has that smitey angel look going on that’s always kinda done things to him and Dean licks his lips as he says, “I’m all yours now.”

He doesn’t miss the way Cas’s eyes darken at that, so he pulls him in for another kiss, and when Cas gets his hands around Dean’s waist and pulls, Dean goes with it and slides down until he’s flat on his back.

Cas nudges his legs apart and lies himself down on top of him, both of them letting out sounds of pleasure when their erections line up, and then Cas’s lips are back on his and Dean is pushing his hands back under his shirt to feel his skin again. When Cas starts rutting on top of him in earnest, Dean follows his lead and rubs himself against Cas at every opportunity. Making out and dry humping each other with all of their clothes on may be juvenile, but his dick’s really on board with being pinned down by a wall of muscle for the first time in way too long.

He finally gives in to the urge to get his hands on Cas’s ass and runs his hands down Cas’s back to his hips. He hesitates when his fingertips brush the swell of his ass but Cas groans and ruts against him even harder, and that’s gotta be a green light, so he goes for it and gets two handfuls of Cas’s fucking perfectly round ass.

Cas breaks their kiss when he groans.

“Checked out your ass so many damn times,” Dean admits. “Fucking perfect.”

“Please don’t stop,” Castiel prompts him.

So he doesn’t. He keeps his hands firmly on his ass cheeks and rocks him against his cock exactly the way he wants him, slow and dirty, and he turns his head to the side to let Cas keep lavishing those wet, hot kisses onto his neck.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes, squeezing his ass again. “Feels so good.”

“Can I touch you?” Castiel asks him.

“Hell yeah you can touch me. Anything, angel.”

He feels self conscious about the endearment the moment it slips out until -

“Dean,” Castiel sighs happily, snaking his hand between them to rub his cock over his pants.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean gasps as Cas drags his palm up and down his length. He bucks into his hand, gasping again when that feels even better, and he feels Cas bite down at the base of his neck, sending heat racing through his body.

“Want - please, Dean - I want you to keep touching me,” Castiel says, and Dean realizes his hands are frozen in place.

“I wanna touch you,” Dean tells him, gripping his ass to make Cas’s breath catch again. “I really don’t want to come in my pants though, and you’ve got me pretty close already.”

“Do you want me to take off your pants?” Castiel asks, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Only more than I want to keep breathing,” Dean says, a smile tugging at his lips. Cas leans in to kiss him soft and slow, and the warmth building in his chest reminds him _this is Cas_ , and Dean comes back to himself enough to add, “But only if you want to. No rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Believe me, I want to.” Then Cas is tugging his pants down. “And you still better not go anywhere when I’m done with you.”

“Cas,” Dean says softly.

Cas pauses and suddenly Dean’s floundering, so far out of his depth that he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to tell him that this isn’t just sex, that this means more than that to him, but he doesn’t know how to say it without feeling like an idiot.

Castiel shows just how well he knows him again when his expression softens and he presses a kiss to his stomach. Those stupidly blue eyes of his are shining up at him when he says, “I love you, Dean.”

And Dean’s heart still races just as fast from hearing it a second time.

“Love you,” Dean answers, heat coming to his cheeks from saying it when Cas is about to pull down his pants.

“Now lift your hips so I can get these off,” Castiel says, his eyes dancing with amusement now.

“Bossy Cas,” Dean teases, as if he doesn’t sorta like it. He follows his prompting and lifts his hips, watching Cas’s face closely as he pulls off his pants and immediately zeroes in on the sight of his cock falling heavily onto his stomach. Hunger would probably be a good way to describe the way Cas is looking at him now, and he feels like he’s burning up with how badly he wants this.

“Yours too.”

Cas sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his pants down before getting on all fours and crawling back towards Dean. He looks down to see Cas’s cock for the first time, and notes with fascination that the former angel is cut, and more interestingly, his cock is already flushed an angry looking red.

“I wanna see all of you,” Dean manages to say before Cas lies down on top of him.

Cas does the squinty eye thing before he says, “My shirt off, too?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Dean quips, and Cas gives him a small smile before he grabs the back of his shirt and hauls it up over his head. Dean sits up and pulls his off too, raking his eyes up and down Cas’s muscular body eagerly, then waits for Cas to catch his lips in another kiss and start urging him backwards until he’s flat on his back again.

Cas rearranges himself until their cocks are pressed together and while it feels real damn good, he knows they need lube. “Hang on a sec,” Dean says, reaching over to rifle through his nightstand until he pulls out the bottle. “This’ll feel better.” He squirts some into his hand and reaches down to take Cas’s cock into his hand for the first time.

Cas drops his forehead down to Dean’s shoulder with a breathy, “ _Unh_.”

“Damn. You’re rock hard, Cas,” Dean comments as he coats his cock with the lube using slow, sensual strokes. “Look at me. I gotta see you.” Cas indulges him with eye contact, and he’s damn glad, too, because watching Cas’s face contort with pleasure as he explores his shaft when he’s usually so expressionless has gotta be one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen.

Cas’s arms are shaking where they’re holding him up off of Dean, and his voice comes out almost in a sigh when he answers, “I’ve wanted you like this for a - a very long time. And your body is very arousing.”

“Arousing, huh?” Dean repeats, amused at his vocabulary in a moment like this. He brushes his thumb across his cockhead and asks, “How about hot?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Castiel answers quickly. “You’re extremely hot.”

Dean huffs out a bit of a laugh, because weirdly enough, hot sounds all kinds of wrong coming from Cas. “ _You’re_ extremely hot. Get down here so I can feel you again,” Dean prompts him, releasing his cock, wiping his hand on the sheets, and applying slight pressure to his lower back. Cas comes willingly, lowering himself to his elbows, and this time when he feels Cas’s cock next to his, it’s slick and warm and exactly the way he wanted it. It feels unbelievable.

“Oh shit,” Dean gasps.

“This feels _so good_ ,” Castiel says. He sounds amazed and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

Dean leans up to press their lips together, pleased when Cas follows him back down and deepens the kiss, sending additional desire shooting through his body. He wraps his arms around those broad shoulders of his and curls his fingers into his hair while he kisses him with everything he’s got. And god, never in his wildest dreams did he think Cas would be able to kiss him like this. So fucking hot and needy, _just_ on the good side of dirty, and he goddamn loves it.

Cas starts rocking into him, obviously aiming for gentle at first, but at the first slick slide of their cocks, he moans again and his next thrust is twice as hard, stealing the breath from both of them at the sensation. Dean dives right back for another kiss though, not wanting to stop now that he can finally kiss him after all this time.

He moves his hands down his body, groping and pressing into the brawn of his back, ghosting up his sides and back down the bulge of his biceps holding up his upper body. He hears himself make a low moan in his throat when he feels the hard muscle there and turns his head so he can talk.

“Hiding a body like this under that trench coat is a fucking shame.”

“I’ll never wear it again if you keep kissing me,” Castiel promises desperately, but his mouth is currently busy setting fire to his neck, burning a trail down the column of his throat to his collarbone. When Cas’s fingers dance over his nipples he thinks he’s gonna lose it right there and then.

“Cas,” Dean gasps. “I’m getting close.”

“Keep going,” Castiel begs him. “I didn’t know - oh, Dean - it feels _so good_.”

He knows if they don’t slow down this is gonna be over way sooner than he wants it to be, but he also knows that’s kind of inevitable when neither of them have been with anybody in such a long time. So he doesn’t stop. Instead, he spreads his legs wider to make room for Cas to nestle between them. Then he drags his hands back down to his Castiel’s ass to pull him in so they can rut even harder. With his legs spread, he has more leverage, and he can meet him thrust for thrust, the two of them so in sync that he gets his ass right up off the bed and their groins never break contact. He can feel that familiar feeling of heat coiling in his stomach, building faster and faster with every thrust of his hips and he can already tell it’s going to feel amazing when he comes.

“D-Dean,” Castiel chokes out, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and tugging at his heart strings. He loves him so much and having him close like this is something he never thought he’d have, and it’s just _so much_.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean encourages him, leaving wet kisses along his shoulder. He knows Cas has gotta be close, too. He sounds fucking wrecked and Dean wants to hear him chant his name like that another thousand times.

“You first - you have to come first, Dean. I need to feel it when you come _for me_ _._ ”

“Gonna come so hard for you, Cas,” he promises.

“Dean, please,” Castiel begs. His voice is so fucking deep and rough and Dean wants to be the only one who ever gets to hear him like this ever again. “Come on me.”

And hearing Cas say that is so unexpectedly hot, he’s thrown over the edge in an instant. His body locks up and his hips jerk as he feels the first hot spurt of cum spill between them. He pulls Cas impossibly closer, digging his nails into his skin as he comes for what feels like the best minute of his life. When he feels Cas go rigid with a blissed out sounding, “ _Dean!_ ” while he adds to the mess between them, he peppers every inch of skin he can reach with kisses as they both lazily thrust their way through the rest of their orgasms, grunting and groaning with satisfaction.

Dean rubs Cas’s back gently while they both try to catch their breath. Sex for him is almost never as intimate as what just happened between him and Cas, and even though it wasn’t the hottest thing he’s ever done in bed, he feels absolutely wiped because of how emotional it was. He can still hardly believe that after all these years he finally got to be with Cas like this and that it managed to be even better that he thought it would be. And he’d thought about it _a lot._

Cas lifts his head to kiss him again, slow and sloppy, both of them too tired to put much effort into it but still wanting to be close. Cas rests his forehead against Dean’s and smiles shyly, almost like he doesn’t know what to do now. And because he wants Cas to be really sure about them and not to feel weird about this, he forces himself to say the words he’s thinking again.

“It’s never like this for me.”

Cas’s body goes a little stiff and he says, “I know you’re probably disappointed with the lack of penetrative sex, but I wasn’t sure -”

“No, that’s not what I meant. And I’m not disappointed with anything,” he says, gently pushing Cas’s hair off of his forehead where it’s stuck with sweat. “I’m tryin’ to say that was awesome, Cas. I don’t really do all that much kissing and touching because it’s too personal, you know? It was different with you because of who you are.”

“Oh,” Cas comments, only relaxing slightly.

“Good different. It was better with you,” Dean clarifies, shuffling around until Cas is on his side next to him with his head on Dean’s shoulder. He gives into the sappy impulse to kiss him on top of his head and can hear the smile when Cas answers him.

“That was better than all those girls you sleep with?”

“Course it was. I didn’t love them.”

“So... does that mean you might not want to be with other people moving forwards, then?”

Dean shakes his head in exasperation. “You really thought I was finally gonna get you back, tell you I’m in love with you, then go fuck other people on the side?”

“You have rarely been monogamous, Dean,” Castiel says gently.

“But not by choice. It wasn’t like I had any other option with the life we lead. But things with you are different. I can be who I am and not have to lie about anything.” Then he flushes when he realizes Cas never came right out and said he wanted to be together. Or even if he was gonna stay for good. “If you wanna be with me, I mean. I know I fucked up and kicked you out the last time you were human, but I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice. The bunker can be your home if you wanna stay. We can really give this thing between us a shot if that’s what you want.”

“I’d like that,” Castiel answers. “That’s definitely what I want.”

“Good,” Dean says, relief rushing through him.

“I might get lonely in my room again tonight, though,” Castiel comments.

“I definitely would’ve faked it if you didn’t,” Dean answers with a smile. “Kinda secretly hoping you’ll tuck me up in your wings.”

“You really like them?” Castiel asks again.

“I wasn’t lying when I said they’d probably make a good blanket.”

“I’m very pleased that you like them. It feels like they’re more _me_ than anything you’ve seen,” Castiel admits. “Although I will say they’re usually much nicer than they are right now. If I could have avoided it, I never would have allowed you to see them in the state they’re in now.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’ve always liked you a little mussed up,” Dean says, smiling at himself as he takes the opportunity to mess up his hair even more than it already is.

“I’m a lot mussed up right now,” Castiel says dryly. The fact that he just took Dean messing him up and didn’t even try to fight him off only makes him smile harder.

“Guess that explains why I like you so much.”

He can hear the sarcasm in Cas’s voice loud and clear when he says, “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the orgasm you just had.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure it’s both,” Dean answers, tipping Cas’s face up for another quick kiss.

“And I can understand why. That was... so much better than my previous sexual experience. I was also unaware it could feel like that.”

“Well, since I don’t plan to stab you in the morning, I think I win by default,” he teases him.

“No one will ever be able to compete with you, Dean,” Castiel answers, _way_ too sincere after the joke he just made. It’s just so perfectly Cas.

“Glad to have you back, Cas.”

“I’m glad I made it back to you.” Cas just stares at him for a few minutes, and Dean takes in every detail of how impossibly good Cas looks post-sex until he’s distracted with Castiel asking, “Now what?”

Dean shrugs. “First we clean up,” Dean says, reaching for the wet wipes he has stashed in his night stand. “Then I guess we go back out there and let Sam start being smug and annoying every time we look at each other for god knows how long.”

“I look forward to that,” Cas says happily.

“You would,” he answers.

When they walk into the map room a little while later holding hands, they find Sam in front of his laptop looking like he’s researching a new case. Sam greets them with a knowing look and says, “Whoops, looks like you’ve got your shirt on backwards there, Cas.”

And before Dean can stop him, Cas falls for it. He flushes red right to the tips of his ears and looks down at his shirt in alarm, causing Sam to clap his hands at his own brilliance before he tosses his head back and laughs like an idiot.

Cas looks at him in confusion when he sees his shirt is actually on the right way and Dean flops into the chair beside him. “He thinks he’s funny because now he knows you took your shirt off since we saw him last since you had to check you put it on okay,” Dean explains.

There’s only a split second before Castiel replies, “He could have just commented on the fact that we switched pants.”

Sam’s jaw drops while he looks between the two of them, obviously checking if Cas is just fucking with him. When Dean’s face cracks on a grin at Cas giving Sam’s shit back just as good as he got it, Sam huffs in a mixture of annoyance and amusement but goes back to looking at his screen without saying anything else. Point for Cas.

Dean tries to go back to acting like everything’s normal by asking, “So you caught a case?”

But the truth is, he’s barely even listening while Sam launches into what he’s got so far because he’s distracted by how Cas has already started reading the screen over Sam’s shoulder with that familiar pinched expression on his face.

All of it is so close to everything he thought he’d never get to have that he can barely keep his smile from growing into embarrassing territory. He’s happier right now with Cas and Sam than he ever thought he’d be in any of those _someday_ dreams of his, and he’s never felt so good about being wrong in his whole damn life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for another story! It's been SO HARD holding onto this one and not sharing it with you guys as I wrote it, but I really hope you liked it! :)


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